


Strange Fruit

by Frangipanidownunder



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 08:24:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14891009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frangipanidownunder/pseuds/Frangipanidownunder
Summary: Fruits and other pleasures





	Strange Fruit

It was the bright pink that caught her eye. That, and the fact that Mulder was wearing his glasses and the colour was reflected in them. Well, all right then, it was that and the fact that his top button was open along with his lips. She stood a moment watching. The colour, the glasses, the collar, the lips.

“Hey Scully, did you know that the dragonfruit is called the pitaya?”

Gathering herself, she said, “Yes, and the pink or purple colour is due to pigments called betacyanins that also give the same colouration to beets like chard and amaranth.”

He deflated a little. She tried not to smile.

“What is this little beauty called?” He turned the laptop and she looked at the photo showing that looked like a chubby purple butterfly; two curved fruits, slit open to reveal delicate white seeds. She squinted, stepped forward, ostensibly to get a better look at the screen, but she also saw how his tie was slightly skewed, how his jaw was shadowed. He took off his glasses, letting them hang between his thumb and forefinger and when he flashed her the Mulder GrinTM she damn near dropped to her knees and unzipped his fly there and then.

“It looks like the akebia trifoliata, native to Taiwan, China and Japan. It’s not so popular anymore, but used to be foraged quite widely. The pulpy seeds are on the sweet side of bland. Why are you still here, Mulder? It’s six o’clock on a Friday night.”

“Are you telling me you’ve got something better to do at the start of the weekend than look at exotic and rare fruit species, Scully? Because something tells me you’ve done this before. Maybe not at six on a Friday, but where do you get off being so judgemental?” He smiled at her, then added. “Don’t answer that last bit, Dr Scully.”

Where did she get off? Or where would she? Or when? That was the question. She sat on her chair and knew her skirt had risen above what could conceivably be considered decent. If he saw it, he had the tenacity to keep it to himself, although his foot did start to do that annoying tapping thing. She picked up a pencil and ran it through her fingers. “I may have gone to botany study group where one of the better looking students was obsessed with strange fruits.”

He shut the laptop with a dramatic flourish, leaning over it, elbows spread, sleeves rolled up, revealing the artistic cut of his arms. “So you know all about ackee, rambutans and mangosteens?”

She nodded. “And jackfruits, carambolas and horned melons.” She drew out the last name and, predictably, he waggled his eyebrows.

This game they played had ramped up recently. It wasn’t like the early days, where he pushed and teased, knowing she wouldn’t reciprocate. Since that damned bee, where she would have reciprocated in the most passionate of ways, the thought of his mouth on hers, his hands in her hair, his legs wrapped around hers, had haunted her. Then Fowley had press-ganged her way back into his life, wedging them apart for too long. Now though, with a New Year’s kiss behind them, however chaste, there had been a playful shift.

“So this student, Scully,” he said, fitting his head back against his clasped hands. “How good looking was he?”

She uncrossed and recrossed her legs, hoping her lacy bands would be just noticeable around each thigh, licked her lips and held his gaze. “She was beautiful.”

He wouldn’t tell her where they were going until he stopped the car. She had been wet for most of the journey. Something about the way his lips had split into an approving grin when she told him about her brief infatuation with Cherie Mathers had got her hot and breathless and she was glad for the cool air of the carpark.

“My research led me to this store.”

She wanted to hit him. What the fuck, Mulder? Research? The only research he needed to do was how to interpret the rare but distinctive pre-mating rituals of FBI partners. “Mulder, the internet is not good for you.”

What was good was the way his hand felt over her thigh - warm and heavy. She watched his knuckles flex, his fingers sink deeper. A brief image of his hips between hers, his ribs against her breasts, his mouth on her neck.

“You might want to reserve your judgement on that until later, Scully.”

She followed him through the gate and down the narrow path that ran alongside the non-descript building. The door was covered in cobwebs and grime. It squeaked with such gothic flair that she looked behind her and reached into her pocket for her weapon. Inside revealed a dark, cool space with row upon row of shelves stacked with crates, each of which was filled with fruits and vegetables of all shapes, sizes and hues.

“What were you researching that brought you to this place, Mulder?”

He reached into the first crate and pulled out a sage green head of something that looked more coral than vegetable. “You and Cherie didn’t get cosy over romanesco broccoli, Scully?”

She ignored him, straightening her skirt and lifting her blouse away from her body. It was humid. Or maybe that was just her perspective. She looked in the basket in front of her and grabbed a handful of lychees, their studded skins pressing into her palms. Next to them, was a vibrant crate of what she believed to be durians.

“Smells like hell, tastes like heaven,” he said, pressing himself up against her back and reaching the fruit out of her hand. “Want to try it?”

“Pass,” she said. “Besides, I still don’t know why we’re here.”

“Have you ever wanted something so badly that you were prepared to go to the ends of the earth for it?”

She rolled on the balls of her feet and crossed her arms around her, as if that might contain the building arousal. “Do I really need to answer that, Mulder?”

“Well, maybe not the ends of the earth, maybe just downtown Washington. You see,” he said, moving around to face her, hands on her shoulders, thumbs tracing around her collarbones. “I really wanted to eat something special tonight. Something exotic, rare.”

She nearly said, ‘so do I, Mulder’ but she tamped it back and simply nodded, waiting for him to finish.

“This store stocks the black sapote, Scully. What would Cherie have said about that?” He walked around the other side of the row and she touched the place where his fingers had left their impressions on her skin.

“I don’t particular care what Cherie would have said, Mulder. What do you say?”

He grinned over a box of pomegranates. “The chocolate pudding fruit has soft flesh, it’s a smoky combination of cocoa and mango. I’ve never tasted anything like it before. It’s exquisite.”

“Are you going to continue to wax lyrical or are you gonna buy me one, Mulder?”

“Only if you promise to let me watch you while you eat it.”

He poured her a second glass of red and she reached for a half of mango, criss-crossing the flesh with the knife.

“You’ve done that before, Scully.”

“I know how to wield a sharp implement, Mulder.” She pushed the fruit out of the skin and dipped her tongue to catch the spilling juice. It dribbled down her chin and she cuffed it away with the heel of her hand. His tongue rested on his bottom lip. She pressed her face into the mango, pulling the flesh with her teeth. She let the sweet perfume soak into her tongue and when she’d finished, she dropped the empty skin onto the plate. Mulder’s face was pure rapt attention. She felt the sticky juice clinging to her chin. She edged forward and he did too.

“I’ve never seen you eat with such abandon, Scully.”

“It’s not the only thing I do with abandon, Mulder.”

“Show me?” He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her, sucking on her lips to extract the mango juice. He trailed his tongue down and licked her chin in a soft upwards motion. She tilted her head to one side and he continued he changed direction, tracking his flattened tongue along her jawbone to her ear. “I want to watch everything you do, Scully.”

Her nipples peaked with the change of atmosphere. His hands contoured her from neck to waist and she took a handful of blueberries into her mouth and popped them as he remapped her. She let the juice spill over her lips and he kissed it off, then planted purple kisses down her chest and around her breasts.

“Marking your territory, Mulder?”

His hands fumbled with her zipper and she lifted her ass from the couch to make his job easier. He groaned as the skirt slid down her thighs to reveal her lace-tops and panties. “Are you mine, Scully?”

She took the sapote and a spoon as he headed south. She dug her elbows into the cool back of the couch and let her knees fall open to him. Scooping the flesh from the fruit she let it slide down her throat. His tongue mimicked her own movements, scooping, licking, lapping. Her fruit was finished but Mulder’s magic was just budding and she let herself sink further back. He stopped briefly and looked up at her, eyes narrowed with lust.

“Don’t stop,” she said.

When he shook his head, the bridge of his broad nose pressed against her clit and shockwaves of pleasure bolted along her thighs, drilled into hips, swirled around her middle. She grabbed his hair and together they moved. Her thighs pushed against his ears, she lifted her ass higher and he mumbled so that his jaw moved down along her perineum. The sting from his stubble was more delicious than the fruit. He moved his hands under her thighs and she hung her feet over his shoulders.

“Scoot forward, Scully,” he said and his lips shone with her juice. She lifted herself up and kissed him first, before lying part the way back down, but keeping her ass free from the couch seat, so that her lower body was supported by her abdominal muscles. Her heels flexed against his shoulders. “You taste good, don’t you?”

He used his thumbs to part her and with the tip of his tongue he peeled away her skin to reveal her soft fruit. Both thumbs slid higher until they pinned back her walls and allowed his pointed tongue to scoop deeper, getting to the heart of her. When he relaxed it so that it flattened out and pressed up against her clit, she cried out his name and laughed against her, sending those shockwaves back around her body. His thumbs touched, pushing inside and pulling out to the brink where she rose and fell with his teasing.

“I think you need to fuck me, Mulder.”

His belt was off before she’d finished and as she sat up higher, he’d freed himself from the constraints of his clothes and was holding his straining cock in his left hand. He steadied himself by planting his hands either side of her on the couch seat. His jaw was still slick and when he kissed her she tasted the remnants of herself and the blueberries.

In one excruciatingly slow movement he filled her. Her back was supported by the arm rest and her head bumped against the small lamp table as his momentum built. She braced one hand down by her butt and the other she lifted up above her head, trying to grasp the edge of the table. She found the other mango cheek and with the heat building in her centre, his movements ramping up, his breath blowing against her neck, she took the fruit and bit into it, letting the juice spill down her chest. He saw it and dipped to lick it, trailing his tongue around her nipple. She took another mouthful and he bent to pull the orange flesh from her mouth, swallowing it with a lazy smile. She pushed up to suck on that lower lip of his and he moved one hand up, rolling her nipple between his fingers.

“Sticky,” he sighed and he pushed faster, harder so that he bounced against her cervix. She groaned with each stroke. Their pace was frenetic now and she pressed a hand against his chest to adjust the angle. The skin of the mango landed flesh side down against his nipple and he looked down, grinning. “M’sticky now too.” 

He brought an arm under her butt to lift her closer. Her head slipped down, crushed into the corner of the couch but they were so close she could do nothing but urge him on. The wave started in her toes and warmth spread along her legs into her groin. The unbearable throbbing grew and grew until it burst and she soaked him just as he spilled into her. He collapsed over her, whispering something unintelligible into her ears. They lay like that for minutes and she felt the fizz of energy popping in her nerves and muscles. Mulder turned his lips to her neck and nuzzled before slipping back down her and kneeling up. The mango skin was still stamped against him and he chuckled as he pulled it off and put it on the table.

“I think you just pipped me to it, Scully.”

She groaned and sat up, looking down at her red-raw thighs. “Your seed is escaping, you might want to grab me some tissues.”

“Your skin is so shiny now,” he said, standing up and walking to his desk where he picked up the Kleenex. She admired the plane of his back and the roundness of his ass before he turned round to her and grinned. “You look ripe for the eating.”

“And if you keep up these bad puns, Mulder, I’m going to grab you so hard your magnificent plums will be withered prunes by the time I’ve finished with you. And nobody likes bruised fruit.”

He pulled a face and gave her a wad of tissues. “I didn’t realise that once you’d been plucked from the vine you’d be so bitter.”

“Shut up, Mulder,” she said, throwing his socks at him.

“What? You know you love it when I talk dirty to you, Scully.” He sat next to her and took her feet, depositing them on his lap. “But seriously, this whole fruit thing wasn’t a plan to get you into bed.”

“Well, we didn’t exactly make it into bed, did we?”

“What I meant was, I had no intention of this happening tonight, but I’m very grapeful that it did.”

“You don’t give up, do you?” She dug an elbow into his ribs. “In your research into unusual fruit, did you happen to come across the Idiospermum australiense, Mulder? A tree so rare and ancient that it is also called the Green Dinosaur.” He shook his head. “It dates back 120 million years. It’s found in Northern Queensland, in the Daintree Forest and it produces the largest seed in Australia – up to a metre in height.”

“That’s pretty big, Scully,” he said. “But why are you telling me this? Did Cherie share this giant fruit with you? Is it so delicious that it beats the chocolate pudding fruit? Or is it so foul that nobody can bear to eat it?” His cock twitched under her calves as he continued to roll her feet between his hands.

“Nothing like that, Mulder. It just sprang into my mind when you were making all your bad jokes back then.” He pulled her by the arm and she straddled him, his cock settling right at her centre as she began to rock back and forth.

“Is it so beautiful and rare that you instantly thought of me?” His cock hardened and she spread her legs further, allowing him access.

She bit into his shoulder and sucked. His breath rasped over his teeth and she knew he was too far gone to protest any more. She bucked harder and said, “no, Mulder, it was more that it’s common name reminded me of you.”

He thrust up and she rode the wave, hands on his shoulders, head dropping back. His mouth was against her chest, biting the top of her breast. He panted out the words, “What’s it’s common name?”

“The Idiot Fruit Tree.”


End file.
